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Climate Groups Sue Over Trump’s Orders to Expand Offshore Drilling

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Friday, February 21, 2025

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. Green advocacy groups filed two lawsuits against the Trump administration on Wednesday, marking the first environmental legal challenges against the president’s second administration. Both focus on the Trump administration’s moves to open up more of US waters to oil and gas drilling, which the plaintiffs say are illegal. “The Arctic Ocean has been protected from US drilling for nearly a decade, and those protections have been affirmed by the federal courts.” “Offshore oil drilling is destructive from start to finish,” said Kristen Monsell, the oceans legal director at the conservation organization Center for Biological Diversity. “Opening up more public waters to the oil industry for short-term gain and political points is a reprehensible and irresponsible way to manage our precious ocean ecosystems.” In the first lawsuit, local and national organizations including the Center for Biological Diversity, Greenpeace, the Sierra Club, the Louisiana-based Healthy Gulf, and the Northern Alaska Environmental Center took aim at the president’s revocation of Joe Biden-era protections for 265 million acres of federal waters from future fossil fuel leasing. Trump signed an order withdrawing the protections just hours into his second term. Another related challenge, filed by many of the same groups, calls for a court to reinstate a 2021 decision affirming protections from nearly 130 million acres in the Arctic and Atlantic oceans. “The Arctic Ocean has been protected from US drilling for nearly a decade, and those protections have been affirmed by the federal courts,” said Sierra Weaver, a senior attorney at the organization Defenders of Wildlife, which is a plaintiff in the case. “Though these coastlines have been protected, the administration is showing no restraint in seeking to hand off some of our most fragile and pristine landscapes for the oil industry’s profit.” The lawsuits will probably be the first of hundreds of environmental lawsuits filed by green groups against the Trump administration. During his first weeks in office, Trump has already rolled back a swath of Biden-era environmental protections while freezing green spending programs—part of his pledge to boost the fossil fuel industry. Trump says the US must boost fossil fuels—which are responsible for the vast majority of global warming—to meet demand and ensure that the United States remains a global energy leader. The US is currently producing more oil and gas than any other country in history. The Guardian has contacted the White House for comment about the litigation.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration. Green advocacy groups filed two lawsuits against the Trump administration on Wednesday, marking the first environmental legal challenges against the president’s second administration. Both focus on the Trump administration’s moves to open up more of US waters to oil and gas drilling, which […]

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Green advocacy groups filed two lawsuits against the Trump administration on Wednesday, marking the first environmental legal challenges against the president’s second administration.

Both focus on the Trump administration’s moves to open up more of US waters to oil and gas drilling, which the plaintiffs say are illegal.

“The Arctic Ocean has been protected from US drilling for nearly a decade, and those protections have been affirmed by the federal courts.”

“Offshore oil drilling is destructive from start to finish,” said Kristen Monsell, the oceans legal director at the conservation organization Center for Biological Diversity. “Opening up more public waters to the oil industry for short-term gain and political points is a reprehensible and irresponsible way to manage our precious ocean ecosystems.”

In the first lawsuit, local and national organizations including the Center for Biological Diversity, Greenpeace, the Sierra Club, the Louisiana-based Healthy Gulf, and the Northern Alaska Environmental Center took aim at the president’s revocation of Joe Biden-era protections for 265 million acres of federal waters from future fossil fuel leasing. Trump signed an order withdrawing the protections just hours into his second term.

Another related challenge, filed by many of the same groups, calls for a court to reinstate a 2021 decision affirming protections from nearly 130 million acres in the Arctic and Atlantic oceans.

“The Arctic Ocean has been protected from US drilling for nearly a decade, and those protections have been affirmed by the federal courts,” said Sierra Weaver, a senior attorney at the organization Defenders of Wildlife, which is a plaintiff in the case. “Though these coastlines have been protected, the administration is showing no restraint in seeking to hand off some of our most fragile and pristine landscapes for the oil industry’s profit.”

The lawsuits will probably be the first of hundreds of environmental lawsuits filed by green groups against the Trump administration. During his first weeks in office, Trump has already rolled back a swath of Biden-era environmental protections while freezing green spending programs—part of his pledge to boost the fossil fuel industry.

Trump says the US must boost fossil fuels—which are responsible for the vast majority of global warming—to meet demand and ensure that the United States remains a global energy leader. The US is currently producing more oil and gas than any other country in history.

The Guardian has contacted the White House for comment about the litigation.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

Seven books to help you work through the climate anxiety you developed in 2025

With the holiday travel season ramping up, a good book is a must-have for airport delays or to give as the perfect gift.

With the holiday travel season ramping up, a good book is a must-have for airport delays or to give as the perfect gift.Journalists from Bloomberg Green picked seven climate and environmental books they loved despite their weighty content. A few were positively uplifting. Here are our recommendations.Fiction“What We Can Know” by Ian McEwanIt’s 2119, decades after the Derangement (cascading climate catastrophes), the Inundation (a global tsunami triggered by a Russian nuclear bomb) and artificial intelligence-launched wars have halved the world’s population. The U.S. is no more and the U.K. is an impoverished archipelago of tiny islands where scholar Tom Metcalfe embarks on an obsessive quest to find the only copy of a renowned 21st century poem that was never published.The famous author of the ode to now-vanished English landscapes recited it once at a dinner party in 2014 as a gift to his wife, but its words remain lost to time. Metcalfe believes access to the previously hidden digital lives of the poet and his circle will lead him to the manuscript. He knows where to start his search: Thanks to Nigeria — the 22nd century’s superpower — the historical internet has been decrypted and archived, including every personal email, text, photo and video.The truth, though, lies elsewhere. It’s a richly told tale of our deranged present — and where it may lead without course correction. — Todd Woody“Greenwood” by Michael ChristieThis likewise dystopian novel begins in 2038 with Jacinda Greenwood, a dendrologist turned tour guide for the ultra-wealthy, working in one of the world’s last remaining forests. But the novel zig-zags back to 1934 and the beginnings of a timber empire that divided her family for generations.For more than a century, the Greenwoods’ lives and fates were entwined with the trees they fought to exploit or protect. The novel explores themes of ancestral sin and atonement against the backdrop of the forests, which stand as silent witnesses to human crimes enacted on a global scale. — Danielle Bochove“Barkskins” by Annie ProulxAnother multigenerational saga, spanning more than three centuries and 700 pages, this 2016 novel by a Pulitzer Prize-winning author tracks the deforestation of the New World over 300 years, beginning in the 17th century.Following the descendants of two immigrants to what will become modern-day Quebec, the story takes the reader on a global voyage, crisscrossing North America, visiting the Amsterdam coffee houses that served as hubs for the Dutch mercantile empire and following new trade routes from China to New Zealand. Along the way, it chronicles the exploitation of the forests, the impact on Indigenous communities and the lasting legacy of colonialism.With a vast cast of characters, the novel is at times unwieldy. But the staggering descriptions of Old World forests and the incredible human effort required to destroy them linger long after the saga concludes. —Danielle BochoveNonfiction“The Joyful Environmentalist: How to Practise Without Preaching” by Isabel LosadaIt is hard for a committed environmentalist to feel cheerful these days. But Isabel Losada’s book encourages readers to undertake a seemingly impossible mission: finding delight in navigating the absurd situations that committed environmentalists inevitably face, rather than succumbing to frustration.Those delights can be as simple as looking up eco-friendly homemade shampoo formulas on Instagram or crushing a bucket of berries for seed collection to help restore native plants.The book itself is an enjoyable read. With vivid details and a dose of British humor, Losada relays her failed attempt to have lunch at a Whole Foods store without using its disposable plastic cutlery. (The solution? Bring your own metal fork.) To be sure, some advice in her book isn’t realistic for everyone. But there are plenty of practical tips, such as deleting old and unwanted emails to help reduce the energy usage of data centers that store them. This book is an important reminder that you can protect the environment joyfully.— Coco Liu“Breakneck: China’s Quest to Engineer the Future” by Dan WangChina’s President Xi Jinping is a trained engineer, and so are many members of the country’s top leadership. Dan Wang writes about how that training shows up in the country’s relentless push to build, build and build. That includes a clean tech industry that leads the world in almost every conceivable category, though Wang explores other domains as well.Born in China, Wang grew up in Canada and studied in the U.S. before going back to live in his native country from 2017 to 2023. That background helps his analysis land with more gravity in 2025, as the U.S. and China face off in a battle of fossil fuels versus clean tech. — Akshat Rathi“Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds and Shape Our Futures” by Merlin SheldrakeA JP Morgan banker might seem an unlikely character in a book about fungi. But R. Gordon Wasson, who popularized the main compound found in “magic mushrooms” with a 1957 article in Life magazine, is only one of the delightful surprises in Merlin Sheldrake’s offbeat book. The author’s dedication to telling the tale of fungi includes literally getting his hands dirty, unearthing complex underground fungal networks, and engaging in self-experimentation by participating in a scientific study of the effects of LSD on the brain. The result is a book that reveals the complexity and interdependency of life on Earth, and the role we play in it.“We humans became as clever as we are, so the argument goes, because we were entangled within a demanding flurry of interaction,” Sheldrake writes. Fungi, a lifeform that depends on its interrelatedness with everything else, might have more in common with us than we realize. — Olivia Rudgard“Toms River: A Story of Science and Salvation” by Dan FaginWhen chemical manufacturer Ciba arrived in Toms River, N.J., in 1952, the company’s new plant seemed like the economic engine the sleepy coastal community dependent on fishing and tourism had always needed. But the plant soon began quietly dumping millions of gallons of chemical-laced waste into the town’s eponymous river and surrounding woods. That started a legacy of toxic pollution that left families asking whether the waste was the cause of unusually high rates of childhood cancer in the area.This Pulitzer Prize-winning masterpiece of environmental journalism reads like a thriller, albeit with devastating real-world fallout. It also shows how companies can reinvent themselves: I was startled to learn that Ciba, later known as Ciba-Geigy, merged with another company in 1996 to become the pharmaceutical company Novartis. At a time when there’s been a push to relocate manufacturing from abroad back to the U.S., this is a worthy examination of the hidden costs that can accompany industrial growth. — Emma CourtBochove, Woody, Liu, Court, Rudgard and Rathi write for Bloomberg.

Google is betting on carbon capture tech to lower data center emissions. Here’s how it works

As AI data centers spring up across the country, their energy demand and resulting greenhouse gas emissions are raising concerns. With servers and energy-intensive cooling systems constantly running, these buildings can use anywhere from a few megawatts of power for a small data center to more than 100 megawatts for a hyperscale data center. To put that in perspective, the average large natural gas power plant built in the U.S. generates less than 1,000 megawatts. When the power for these data centers comes from fossil fuels, they can become major sources of climate-warming emissions in the atmosphere—unless the power plants capture their greenhouse gases first and then lock them away. Google recently entered into a unique corporate power purchase agreement to support the construction of a natural gas power plant in Illinois designed to do exactly that through carbon capture and storage. So how does carbon capture and storage, or CCS, work for a project like this? I am an engineer who wrote a 2024 book about various types of carbon storage. Here’s the short version of what you need to know. How CCS works When fossil fuels are burned to generate electricity, they release carbon dioxide, a powerful greenhouse gas that remains in the atmosphere for centuries. As these gases accumulate in the atmosphere, they act like a blanket, holding heat close to the Earth’s surface. Too high of a concentration heats up the Earth too much, setting off climate changes, including worsening heat waves, rising sea levels, and intensifying storms. Carbon capture and storage involves capturing carbon dioxide from power plants, industrial processes, or even directly from the air and then transporting it, often through pipelines, to sites where it can be safely injected underground for permanent storage. The carbon dioxide might be transported as a supercritical gas—which is right at the phase change from liquid to gas and has the properties of both—or dissolved in a liquid. Once injected deep underground, the carbon dioxide can become permanently trapped in the geologic structure, dissolve in brine, or become mineralized, turning it to rock. The goal of carbon storage is to ensure that carbon dioxide can be kept out of the atmosphere for a long time. Types of underground carbon storage There are several options for storing carbon dioxide underground. Depleted oil and natural gas reservoirs have plentiful storage space and the added benefit that most are already mapped and their limits understood. They already held hydrocarbons in place for millions of years. Carbon dioxide can also be injected into working oil or gas reservoirs to push out more of those fossil fuels while leaving most of the carbon dioxide behind. This method, known as enhanced oil and gas recovery, is the most common one used by carbon capture and storage projects in the U.S. today, and one reason CCS draws complaints from environmental groups. Volcanic basalt rock and carbonate formations are considered good candidates for safe and long-term geological storage because they contain calcium and magnesium ions that interact with carbon dioxide, turning it into minerals. Iceland pioneered this method using its bedrock of volcanic basalt for carbon storage. Basalt also covers most of the oceanic crust, and scientists have been exploring the potential for sub-seafloor storage reservoirs. How Iceland uses basalt to turn captured carbon dioxide into solid minerals. In the U.S., a fourth option likely has the most potential for industrial carbon dioxide storage—deep saline aquifers, which is what Google plans to use. These widely distributed aquifers are porous and permeable sediment formations consisting of sandstone, limestone, or dolostone. They’re filled with highly mineralized groundwater that cannot be used directly for drinking water but is very suitable for storing CO2. Deep saline aquifers also have large storage capacities, ranging from about 1,000 to 20,000 gigatons. In comparison, the nation’s total carbon emissions from fossil fuels in 2024 were about 4.9 gigatons. As of fall 2025, 21 industrial facilities across the U.S. used carbon capture and storage, including industries producing natural gas, fertilizer, and biofuels, according to the Global CCS Institute’s 2025 report. Five of those use deep saline aquifers, and the rest involve enhanced oil or gas recovery. Eight more industrial carbon capture facilities were under construction. Google’s plan is unique because it involves a power purchase agreement that makes building the power plant with carbon capture and storage possible. Google’s deep saline aquifer storage plan Google’s 400-megawatt natural gas power plant, to be built with Broadwing Energy, is designed to capture about 90% of the plant’s carbon dioxide emissions and pipe them underground for permanent storage in a deep saline aquifer in the nearby Mount Simon sandstone formation. The Mount Simon sandstone formation is a huge saline aquifer that lies underneath most of Illinois, southwestern Indiana, southern Ohio, and western Kentucky. It has a layer of highly porous and permeable sandstone that makes it an ideal candidate for carbon dioxide injection. To keep the carbon dioxide in a supercritical state, that layer needs to be at least half a mile (800 meters) deep. A thick layer of Eau Claire shale sits above the Mount Simon formation, serving as the caprock that helps prevent stored carbon dioxide from escaping. Except for some small regions near the Mississippi River, Eau Claire shale is considerably thick—more than 300 feet (90 meters)—throughout most of the Illinois basin. The estimated storage capacity of the Mount Simon formation ranges from 27 gigatons to 109 gigatons of carbon dioxide. The Google project plans to use an existing injection well site that was part of the first large-scale carbon storage demonstration in the Mount Simon formation. Food producer Archer Daniels Midland began injecting carbon dioxide there from nearby corn processing plants in 2012. Carbon capture and storage has had challenges as the technology developed over the years, including a pipeline rupture in 2020 that forced evacuations in Satartia, Mississippi, and caused several people to lose consciousness. After a recent leak deep underground at the Archer Daniels Midland site in Illinois, the Environmental Protection Agency in 2025 required the company to improve its monitoring. Stored carbon dioxide had migrated into an unapproved area, but no threat to water supplies was reported. Why does CCS matter? Data centers are expanding quickly, and utilities will have to build more power capacity to keep up. The artificial intelligence company OpenAI is urging the U.S. to build 100 gigawatts of new capacity every year—doubling its current rate. Many energy experts, including the International Energy Agency, believe carbon capture and storage will be necessary to slow climate change and keep global temperatures from reaching dangerous levels as energy demand rises. Ramesh Agarwal is a professor of engineering at Washington University in St. Louis. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

As AI data centers spring up across the country, their energy demand and resulting greenhouse gas emissions are raising concerns. With servers and energy-intensive cooling systems constantly running, these buildings can use anywhere from a few megawatts of power for a small data center to more than 100 megawatts for a hyperscale data center. To put that in perspective, the average large natural gas power plant built in the U.S. generates less than 1,000 megawatts. When the power for these data centers comes from fossil fuels, they can become major sources of climate-warming emissions in the atmosphere—unless the power plants capture their greenhouse gases first and then lock them away. Google recently entered into a unique corporate power purchase agreement to support the construction of a natural gas power plant in Illinois designed to do exactly that through carbon capture and storage. So how does carbon capture and storage, or CCS, work for a project like this? I am an engineer who wrote a 2024 book about various types of carbon storage. Here’s the short version of what you need to know. How CCS works When fossil fuels are burned to generate electricity, they release carbon dioxide, a powerful greenhouse gas that remains in the atmosphere for centuries. As these gases accumulate in the atmosphere, they act like a blanket, holding heat close to the Earth’s surface. Too high of a concentration heats up the Earth too much, setting off climate changes, including worsening heat waves, rising sea levels, and intensifying storms. Carbon capture and storage involves capturing carbon dioxide from power plants, industrial processes, or even directly from the air and then transporting it, often through pipelines, to sites where it can be safely injected underground for permanent storage. The carbon dioxide might be transported as a supercritical gas—which is right at the phase change from liquid to gas and has the properties of both—or dissolved in a liquid. Once injected deep underground, the carbon dioxide can become permanently trapped in the geologic structure, dissolve in brine, or become mineralized, turning it to rock. The goal of carbon storage is to ensure that carbon dioxide can be kept out of the atmosphere for a long time. Types of underground carbon storage There are several options for storing carbon dioxide underground. Depleted oil and natural gas reservoirs have plentiful storage space and the added benefit that most are already mapped and their limits understood. They already held hydrocarbons in place for millions of years. Carbon dioxide can also be injected into working oil or gas reservoirs to push out more of those fossil fuels while leaving most of the carbon dioxide behind. This method, known as enhanced oil and gas recovery, is the most common one used by carbon capture and storage projects in the U.S. today, and one reason CCS draws complaints from environmental groups. Volcanic basalt rock and carbonate formations are considered good candidates for safe and long-term geological storage because they contain calcium and magnesium ions that interact with carbon dioxide, turning it into minerals. Iceland pioneered this method using its bedrock of volcanic basalt for carbon storage. Basalt also covers most of the oceanic crust, and scientists have been exploring the potential for sub-seafloor storage reservoirs. How Iceland uses basalt to turn captured carbon dioxide into solid minerals. In the U.S., a fourth option likely has the most potential for industrial carbon dioxide storage—deep saline aquifers, which is what Google plans to use. These widely distributed aquifers are porous and permeable sediment formations consisting of sandstone, limestone, or dolostone. They’re filled with highly mineralized groundwater that cannot be used directly for drinking water but is very suitable for storing CO2. Deep saline aquifers also have large storage capacities, ranging from about 1,000 to 20,000 gigatons. In comparison, the nation’s total carbon emissions from fossil fuels in 2024 were about 4.9 gigatons. As of fall 2025, 21 industrial facilities across the U.S. used carbon capture and storage, including industries producing natural gas, fertilizer, and biofuels, according to the Global CCS Institute’s 2025 report. Five of those use deep saline aquifers, and the rest involve enhanced oil or gas recovery. Eight more industrial carbon capture facilities were under construction. Google’s plan is unique because it involves a power purchase agreement that makes building the power plant with carbon capture and storage possible. Google’s deep saline aquifer storage plan Google’s 400-megawatt natural gas power plant, to be built with Broadwing Energy, is designed to capture about 90% of the plant’s carbon dioxide emissions and pipe them underground for permanent storage in a deep saline aquifer in the nearby Mount Simon sandstone formation. The Mount Simon sandstone formation is a huge saline aquifer that lies underneath most of Illinois, southwestern Indiana, southern Ohio, and western Kentucky. It has a layer of highly porous and permeable sandstone that makes it an ideal candidate for carbon dioxide injection. To keep the carbon dioxide in a supercritical state, that layer needs to be at least half a mile (800 meters) deep. A thick layer of Eau Claire shale sits above the Mount Simon formation, serving as the caprock that helps prevent stored carbon dioxide from escaping. Except for some small regions near the Mississippi River, Eau Claire shale is considerably thick—more than 300 feet (90 meters)—throughout most of the Illinois basin. The estimated storage capacity of the Mount Simon formation ranges from 27 gigatons to 109 gigatons of carbon dioxide. The Google project plans to use an existing injection well site that was part of the first large-scale carbon storage demonstration in the Mount Simon formation. Food producer Archer Daniels Midland began injecting carbon dioxide there from nearby corn processing plants in 2012. Carbon capture and storage has had challenges as the technology developed over the years, including a pipeline rupture in 2020 that forced evacuations in Satartia, Mississippi, and caused several people to lose consciousness. After a recent leak deep underground at the Archer Daniels Midland site in Illinois, the Environmental Protection Agency in 2025 required the company to improve its monitoring. Stored carbon dioxide had migrated into an unapproved area, but no threat to water supplies was reported. Why does CCS matter? Data centers are expanding quickly, and utilities will have to build more power capacity to keep up. The artificial intelligence company OpenAI is urging the U.S. to build 100 gigawatts of new capacity every year—doubling its current rate. Many energy experts, including the International Energy Agency, believe carbon capture and storage will be necessary to slow climate change and keep global temperatures from reaching dangerous levels as energy demand rises. Ramesh Agarwal is a professor of engineering at Washington University in St. Louis. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Barracuda, grouper, tuna – and seaweed: Madagascar’s fishers forced to find new ways to survive

Seaweed has become a key cash crop as climate change and industrial trawling test the resilient culture of the semi-nomadic Vezo peopleAlong Madagascar’s south-west coast, the Vezo people, who have fished the Mozambique Channel for countless generations, are defined by a way of life sustained by the sea. Yet climate change and industrial exploitation are pushing this ocean-based culture to its limits.Coastal villages around Toliara, a city in southern Madagascar, host tens of thousands of the semi-nomadic Vezo people, who make a living from small-scale fishing on the ocean. For centuries, they have launched pirogues, small boats carved from single tree trunks, every day into the turquoise shallows to catch tuna, barracuda and grouper.A boat near lines of seaweed, which has become a main source of income for Ambatomilo village as warmer seas, bleached reefs and erratic weather accelerate the decline of local fish populations Continue reading...

Along Madagascar’s south-west coast, the Vezo people, who have fished the Mozambique Channel for countless generations, are defined by a way of life sustained by the sea. Yet climate change and industrial exploitation are pushing this ocean-based culture to its limits.Coastal villages around Toliara, a city in southern Madagascar, host tens of thousands of the semi-nomadic Vezo people, who make a living from small-scale fishing on the ocean. For centuries, they have launched pirogues, small boats carved from single tree trunks, every day into the turquoise shallows to catch tuna, barracuda and grouper.“We rely solely on the ocean,” says Soa Nomeny, a woman from a small island off the south-west coast called Nosy Ve. “Whatever we catch today, we eat today. If we catch nothing, we don’t eat.”That dependence is becoming precarious for the 600 or so residents of Nosy Ve. Michel “Goff” Strogoff, a former shark hunter turned conservationist from the Vezo hamlet of Andavadoaka, says fish populations began collapsing in the 1990s and have declined sharply over the past decade.Rising sea temperatures, coral bleaching and reef degradation have destroyed breeding grounds, while erratic weather linked to warming oceans has shortened fishing seasons. “There’s no abundance near shore any more,” he says. “We’re forced to paddle farther.” Soa Nomeny, wearing traditional sunblock, prepares the family’s main meal of rice and fish or octopus. The Vezo only eat that day’s catch, ensuring their meals are connected to the sea’s bounty In Nosy Ve, fish are often cooked with tomato, onion and garlic; salted sardines are laid out to dry before being sold in Andavadoaka; Soa Nomeny applies tabake, traditional sunblock made from ground taolo, a fragrant bark; and the catch is taken to market from Bevohitse village by zebu-drawn cart, the main form of transport in remote areas We still depend on fish for daily needs, but the seaweed helps us plan aheadLocal fishers echo the same concern. “There are simply too many nets out there,” says Hosoanay Natana, who now travels hours beyond traditional grounds to make a viable catch for him and his fellow fishermen.Industrial trawlers – Malagasy and foreign – often enter near-shore waters despite a national ban on the ships coming within two nautical miles (3.7km) of the coast. Weak enforcement means violations are common, leaving small-scale fishers with dwindling returns.The environmental group Blue Ventures, which has worked in the region for two decades, reports that reef fish biomass across south-west Madagascar has fallen by more than half since the 1990s. The organisation supports locally managed marine areas (LMMAs) that help communities set their own fishing rules, restore reefs and look for alternative ways to make a living.Some of the most promising of these include imposing temporary closures, which have allowed octopus stocks to rebound, and the new practice of seaweed farming, which acts as a commercial buffer against overfishing and climate shocks. Hosoanay Natana tightening the net around a school of barracuda. Divers direct boats to form a circle with the net. Once the fish are trapped, the divers retrieve them and bring them to the boat, ensuring more sustainable fishing Farther down the coast, the village of Ambatomilo, known locally as Seaweed Village, has embraced this shift. Overseen by its LMMA committee, it is among several communities cultivating seaweed as a supplementary income for fishers whose traditional grounds are overexploited. Families lay freshly harvested seaweed out to dry before selling it to local cooperatives.Fabricé and his wife, Olive, who began farming five years ago, harvest every couple of weeks. “The market pays around 1,500 ariary [25p] per kilo,” says Olive, spreading red seaweed across bamboo racks. Depending on the season, families can produce up to a tonne a month, offering significant extra income that helps cushion households’ living standards when fishing falters.“We still depend on fish for daily needs,” she says, “but the seaweed helps us plan ahead.”Seaweed farming is now one of Madagascar’s fastest-growing coastal industries. The crop is exported mainly for carrageenan – a gelling agent used in food, cosmetics and pharmaceuticals – but also serves locally as fertiliser and livestock feed. Fabricé gathers in the seaweed harvest. Depending on the season, they can harvest up to a tonne a month. With his wife, Olive, he carries the seaweed to prepare it for market. It is also eaten or used as seasoning, and serves as fertiliser or animal feed when dried. Soa Nomeny with an octopus she has speared to supplement the fish catch Environmental studies have shown that seaweed farms also help stabilise coastlines by reducing wave energy and absorbing carbon dioxide, contributing to erosion control and carbon sequestration.The Vezo people’s adaptability, once a source of pride, has become a condition of survival. Outside the cyclone season, some families still undertake long fishing migrations, camping on sandbanks and uninhabited islets as they follow fish along the coast. “Extended migrations are always an option,” says Natana. “Whether we embark or not depends on the fish stocks nearby.”Such journeys can last weeks or months, depending on catches and resources. The lure of high-value commodities – such as shark fins or sea cucumbers bound for Chinese markets – draws some to more distant waters up to 1,000 miles (1,600km) away.“Some even venture all the way to the Seychelles,” says Strogoff, a nod to the Vezo people’s enduring nomadic spirit: always chasing the next opportunity to make a living. Villagers gathered for the Tromba ritual, performed to invoke blessings, honour ancestors and seek protection, good health and plenty. People are possessed by spirits, a goat or even a zebu is sacrificed, and other offerings made, such as rice, bread or rum. The ritual is also performed at times of crisis, before a journey, or for marriages Cultural traditions remain central to community life. On Nosy Ve, families still gather for annual blessing rituals, seeking protection and prosperity. During one such ceremony, elders invoke ancestral spirits in a Tromba possession rite while villagers sacrifice a goat or make other offerings to ensure safety at sea.Life on the island reflects both endurance and fragility. Homes built from pounded seashells and palm fronds line the beach; nights are lit by torches instead of electricity.After a day at sea, the fish catches are shared equally among crews, with the surplus sold or traded for rice or solar batteries. Meals rarely change: rice, beans and grilled fish.For now, the Vezo people continue to depend on the ocean that shaped them. Yet each year, the distance they must travel grows and the risks mount.As industrial fleets expand and reefs decline, an ancient seafaring culture faces an uncertain horizon. Their struggle reflects a wider challenge across coastal Africa: how small communities can endure when the sea that sustains them is changing so fast.

Sinkholes in Turkey's Agricultural Heartland Fuel Farmers' Concerns

By Ali KucukgocmenKONYA, Turkey, Dec 23 (Reuters) - Hundreds of ‌sinkholes ​have emerged in Turkey's central ‌agricultural region due to dwindling...

KONYA, Turkey, Dec 23 (Reuters) - Hundreds of ‌sinkholes ​have emerged in Turkey's central ‌agricultural region due to dwindling rainfall and receding groundwaters, causing concern ​among farmers and environmental experts who see it as a worrying sign of climate change.Gaping sinkholes ‍pockmark farmland producing maize, wheat ​and sugar beet in Karapinar in Konya province, with more than 10 packed into ​a field ⁠in places. In mountainous areas, vast, ancient sinkholes previously filled with water have now mostly dried up.The pace at which sinkholes are forming in the Konya basin has accelerated in recent years, with the total now nearing 700, according to Fetullah Arik, a geology ‌professor studying sinkholes at Konya Technical University."The main reason for the increase in numbers ​is ‌climate change and drought, which ‍have affected ⁠the whole world since the 2000s," Arik said. "As a result of this drought, the groundwater level is dropping slightly every year."He said the pace of receding groundwater levels has reached 4 to 5 metres per year, compared to half a metre per year in the 2000s, adding to concerns in Turkey's major agricultural sector.Drought and receding groundwater lead local farmers to dig more wells, ​many unlicensed, further depleting the groundwater and exacerbating the problem."There is also an extremely high demand for water in this (Konya) basin," Arik said, adding that there are around 120,000 unlicensed wells, compared to some 40,000 licensed ones.While the new sinkholes have not caused any casualties so far, their unpredictable nature risks the lives and belongings of locals, he said.Two sinkholes opened up in the farmland belonging to Mustafa Sik, a farmer in Karapinar, in the past two years. His brother was only a short distance away, working on the farm in August ​2024 when the second sinkhole formed with an "extremely loud, terrifying rumbling sound," Sik said.A survey by geologists in Sik's land found two more areas where sinkholes could form – although it is not possible to predict when it will happen."Are ​we worried? Of course, we are very worried," he said.(Reporting by Ali Kucukgocmen; Editing by Daren Butler, Alexandra Hudson)Copyright 2025 Thomson Reuters.Photos You Should See – December 2025

This Netflix holiday rom-com is secretly an environmentalist fantasy

Don't watch "A Merry Little Ex-Mas" for the cheesy romance. Watch it for the sustainability messages, which shine as bright as LED Christmas lights.

At first glance, A Merry Little Ex-Mas looks like yet another holiday rom-com — a comforting, predictable love story done up in a tidy bow. Only in this case, that festive wrapper is made of green ribbon. Any environmentally-minded viewers will quickly clock Ex-Mas as not just a corny yuletide romp, but a PSA for sustainable living.  That’s why, on the Friday afternoon before Christmas, a few Grist staffers cozied up on their couches to watch a Netflix film our editor-in-chief assured us was actually a climate movie “disguised in holiday romance sappiness.” Alicia Silverstone (of Clueless fame, and a sustainability advocate in real life) plays an environmentalist named Kate, an architect turned handy-mom. Her passion for the planet — which manifests in familiar hippie tropes like composting, shopping secondhand, and making ornaments out of “recycled and found objects” — borders on obsession, in the eyes of family and friends tortured by such sins as handmade gifts and a carbon-sequestering live Christmas tree.  She’s been separated for months from her husband, a small-town doctor named Everett, who once upon a time whisked her away to his idyllic hometown of Winterlight, forcing her to leave her professional dreams behind in Boston. But enough about him. He barely matters. (Plus, he has about as much personality as recycled cardboard — perhaps why Kate likes him so much.) This movie isn’t about their reconciliation so much as it’s a hot cup of cocoa for the souls of neglected, crunchy, 40-something women who yearn to curl up with a movie that whispers, You are right. You are valued. You were smart to install all those solar panels.  As we started a running commentary on the movie in Slack, it didn’t take long for each of us to see something of ourselves in the protagonist. She shares her first name with senior staff writer Kate Yoder, along with a fondness for long words (like “thermodynamic”), and similar life experiences with associate editor Claire Elise Thompson, who also followed her doctor husband across the country. Teresa Chin, Grist’s executive editor, couldn’t help but identify with the antimaterialist mom who champions homemade and secondhand goods. Anyone who has given climate change more than a passing thought will probably find something in Kate to relate to.  All of the movie’s other characters are little more than props or foils for Kate, but there were two who caught our attention. One was Chet, Kate’s brief fling, a delightful himbo who appears to appreciate her interests more than anyone else in her life. Chet is to Winterlight what Kirk is to Stars Hollow, seemingly holding every job possible — including, we learn at the end, driving a snow plow as an emergency response volunteer. (Their love story would have made for a better movie, if we’re being honest.) The other was Kate’s house, nicknamed “the Mothership,” a picturesque Victorian that had us all cooing in the group chat because of its resemblance to the storied house from the movie Practical Magic. Spoiler alert: It’s the Mothership that truly saves the day in the end. Netflix Though the movie never mentions climate change explicitly, it’s sprinkled with environmental mentions. There are more references to sustainability than there are cheesy romance scenes. They go beyond the low-hanging fruit of eco-friendly lifestyle stuff like worm bins. Kate recommends a neighbor install a heat pump when her furnace breaks down. One of her fathers-in-law (yes, the family has two gay grandpas) asks her about geothermal energy. Her husband even calls her by the nickname “Al,” a reference to Al Gore — evidently the only environmentalist he’s heard of, apart from Kate.  Kate’s friends and family make fun of her environmentally-minded quirks. And she may deserve it a little — for much of the movie, she leans into the fun-killing environmentalist trope (at one point, in response to seeing Everett’s new house bedecked with energy-guzzling Christmas lights and inflatable lawn decorations, Kate exclaims, “I can hear the polar ice caps melting!”) But over the course of the movie, it becomes clear how much her loved ones admire her and share her values, if not in exactly the same way. Her kids, for instance, admit that her passion inspires them to pursue their own dreams.  And Kate’s preparedness comes to fruition when a windstorm knocks out the town’s power, leaving her solar-panel-and-battery-laden home the only one in Winterlight with lights (and, for that matter, heat). The neighbors flock to the Mothership like it’s a climate resilience hub. Inspired by the warmth of her community, Kate decides not to return to Boston to take up her old green architect job, but to stay in Winterlight with Everett and start her own sustainability company, which she describes as “making a difference in my community and changing the world, one person at a time.” It’s a model of “think global, act local.” As Teresa put it in our group chat about the film: “I mean, let’s call this movie what it was — a fantasy where everyone in your life eventually realizes that they were wrong, you are right, and you also get to live in the Practical Magic house during Christmastime.”  A Merry Little Ex-Mas may not be the rom-com of the century — maybe we’ll get the Kate-and-Chet chemistry that we deserve in a sequel — but as cozy wish fulfillment for people who care about the planet, it’s a 10 out of 10. This story was originally published by Grist with the headline This Netflix holiday rom-com is secretly an environmentalist fantasy on Dec 23, 2025.

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